“Very well,” he said. “The tailors will be glad of ye, and the castle will be richer for it.”
Annabeth’s shoulders relaxed, pride warming her features. She stepped closer and reached out, touching his arm briefly.
“Thank ye, for seein’ her worth,” she said. “Eva has a big heart, and she gives it whole when she loves.”
Connor met her gaze steadily.
“I ken,” he replied. “And I’ll spend me life worthy of it.” Silence settled, not heavy but full, as if the room itself approved. Annabeth nodded once more, satisfied.
Connor left the library, the castle seemed brighter somehow. He felt a rare certainty settle in his chest, stronger than steel or oath. Family, he knew now, was a bond as binding as blood. And he would guard it with all that he was. He stopped and looked out a window overlooking the courtyard. He smiled.
A few moments later, he stepped into the courtyard and slowed when he saw young Jason at play, the lad brandishing a wooden sword nearly as long as his arm. Another boy faced him with equal seriousness, their brows knit as if the fate of the realm depended on the bout.
“I’m as strong as the Laird,” Jason said.
Jason swung wide and laughed, missing by a mile, and Connor’s mouth curved into an easy smile. The sound of the child’s joy eased something tight in his chest.
Connor strode closer and cleared his throat. “Careful there, lad, ye leave yer flank wide open like that.”
Jason turned, eyes going round as saucers when he saw him. “Laird McLaren!” he cried, puffing up at once. “Will ye fight us?”
Connor laughed and took up a spare wooden sword from the ground.
“Aye, if ye think ye can stand against me,” he said, lowering himself into a crouch.
Jason grinned fiercely. “I’ll beat ye yet, just ye wait,” he declared, charging with a fearless yell.
Connor parried gently, tapping Jason’s sword aside.
“Easy now,” he said. “Strength’s nae everythin’, it’s yer feet ye must mind.”
Jason frowned in concentration, adjusted his stance, and tried again.
The boys circled him, laughter echoing as Connor exaggerated his movements and staggered back.
“Och, I’m wounded,” he groaned, clutching his side. Jason crowed in triumph. “I struck ye fair!” he shouted.
Connor dropped to one knee with a grin. “Aye, ye did that,” he said.
Jason bounced on his toes, eyes bright. “I want to be a grand warrior like ye one day.”
Connor met his gaze, voice warm. “Then ye shall be that, if ye train hard and keep a good heart.”
As the boys ran off to boast of their victory, Connor rose and brushed the dust from his hands.
He felt eyes upon him and turned to see his grandmother Margaret watching from the cloistered walk. She beckoned him closer, her smile soft and knowing. Connor crossed to her at once.
“Ye’re very good with children,” Margaret said, her voice gentle. “Ye’ll be a fine faither one day.”
Connor ducked his head slightly. “I’ll try me best,” he replied.
Margaret studied him, her gaze sharp beneath the kindness. “The weddin’ is soon,” she said. “I’m satisfied with the bride, and I can finally feel peace, knowiin’ me grandson is marryin’ and will produce heirs.”
Connor chuckled under his breath.
“Aye, ye daenae mince words, Grandmaither,” he said fondly.
Margaret huffed. “At me age, there’s nay sense in it.” She reached for his arm and squeezed it.
